


Losses Bring The Day

by CommanderRoastedWolf



Series: Birds of a Feather [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Pharmercy, rocket angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 00:23:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7076857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderRoastedWolf/pseuds/CommanderRoastedWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angela failed. The bitterness bites at the back of her tongue, so Fareeha decides to comfort her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losses Bring The Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally indulgent smut. Bye.

She is hot beneath her. Her breath is heavy in her ear, breathless pleas gasped as nails rake down her back. Hands that had sworn not to do harm leave their mark in stinging lines, strong legs clutching her hips close.

Fareeha might have taken notice of the way the strapon’s straps chafed her skin if she wasn’t preoccupied with the way Angela’s voice kept saying her name, or the way tiny puffs of air escaped her every time she thrust against her. One hand is tangled in long, golden hair, while the other is clenched around a broad hip, her nose buried into the crook of Angela’s neck. She can taste the salt of the medic’s sweat - it is a bitter desire against her tongue as she sinks her teeth roughly into pale skin. Angela cries her name to the ceiling.

It had been a hard day.

They’d lost a critical battle to mercenaries transporting a bomb through Hollywood’s streets. It had detonated, right next to a crowded movie theatre, injuring over thirty civilians in the process - with Winston in critical condition in the medbay, and the rest of the team despondent and removed, Fareeha knows there is only one way to help Angela.

“Please,” Angela begs. _“Please!”_

She pulls herself away, sitting on her heels above her sprawled lover. Angela’s cheeks are flushed, her lips kiss bruised and raw as she stares up at her, blue eyes huge and hungry. Fareeha grabs Angela’s hips, and practically throws her onto her front, hauling her up onto all fours, growling in Arabic, telling her she deserves it as she lays a hard slap to her ass. Angela cries out again, and Fareeha shoves herself back into what can only be warm, clinging heat.

Afterwards, when they are both spent, Fareeha lazily unbuckles the strapon and deposits it beside the bed with a dull thud. Carefully, she rolls Angela onto her back, placing delicate kisses to the bruises blossoming under her pale skin - the bite marks on her neck and inner thighs, the finger shaped red marks on her hips and waist where she’d held her down. Angela giggles when she presses a kiss to her stomach.

“Stop that, it tickles.” Fareeha looks up at her, enjoying the feeling of long fingers pushing back her hair. As a reward, she gives Angela another tiny bite. Angela laughs again.

“Come here, _mein Liebling. Kann ich einen Kuss haben?”_

Guessing the nature of Angela’s request, Fareeha shifts up the bed to settle beside her, kissing her mouth chastely. That is, until Angela makes a tiny noise in her throat. Fareeha acquiesces, and kisses her properly, nibbling her bottom lip before sucking it delicately, as though tasting turkish delight. Angela’s mouth would have been sweeter, had it not been tinged with regret.

“Don't dwell on it.” Fareeha murmurs against the delicate shell of an ear. “There was nothing you could have done.”

“I should have flew faster, been more-”

“Every time you tell yourself that the more pieces of your soul you tear away.” Fareeha interrupts smoothly as she spoons Angela carefully, pulling the sheets up to cover them both. “We fought. We lost. We lost people along the way. But _we_ are still here, protecting the innocent.”

Angela sighs unhappily against her, turning in her arms to press her face into her chest. Fareeha takes a moment to admire the contrast in their skin tones; dark against light. The avenging justice against the healing saviour. God had brought them together and Fareeha knows that with His guidance, they would both be okay.

Angela starts placing gentle kisses against her skin, lazy afterthoughts at first, until she pushes Fareeha onto her back and takes a dark nipple into her mouth. The low light of Angela’s quarters reflects in deep blue eyes; Fareeha watches as pearly white teeth are revealed, gasping sharply as they nip her gently.

“You take such good care of me, _mein Liebling_. Let me look after you.”

Fareeha husks a laugh as delicate lips trail down her ribs, kissing the hill of each until they reach the valley of her stomach.

“Have mercy on me.” She replies, and Angela muffles a laugh into her belly button, before sticking her tongue into it in revenge. Fareeha lets out an undignified yelp and buries a hand into Angela’s hair, tugging on it gently.

“Don't make me teach you another lesson.” Angela doesn't look contrite enough, so Fareeha grasps hold of her jaw in one strong hand, tracing the outline of her mouth with her thumb. Angela’s lips part and her teeth nip the tip of her thumb - Fareeha restrains a moan.

“Have you learnt your lesson?” Fareeha asks with the same authority she uses on the field of battle. Angela nods, lowering her head submissively to trail a line of kisses down Fareeha’s stomach.

Gentle hands are just parting her thighs when a voice interrupts them, erupting from the communication radio on the bedside table.

“Doctor, are you there?”

Angela closes her eyes momentarily, before shuffling up the bed like some sort of blonde seal to reach for the reply button. Fareeha muffles a laugh, earning her a chilling look of reprimand in return.

“Yes, Commander?”

Fareeha stays deathly quiet, even holding her breath. While relations with teammates aren't illegal since Overwatch was officially disbanded, they are generally frowned upon.

The Commander is speaking in his stern, clipped voice once more, “It’s Winston. He’s awake and wants to see you.”

“I’ll be right there.” Angela tosses the communicator aside, making sure it’s turned off, before she sighs and climbs out of bed. Fareeha sits up, watching as she hurries into the bathroom, closing the door. The shower turns on, and Fareeha flops back into the bed, staring at the ceiling. She scrubs her face, then gets up herself, gathering her clothes and pulling them on quickly. Even though Angela is likely to be in the medbay for the rest of the night, Fareeha doesn’t want to be caught by John.

She is just lacing up her boots when Angela breezes back out of the shower, wrapped in a white fluffy towel, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. They meet each other across the room, Fareeha dropping a quick kiss to Angela’s forehead and receiving a small squeeze to her backside in return.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Fareeha murmurs.

“Sleep well, _mein Liebling_.”

They exchange a final, lingering kiss, before Fareeha trots neatly out the room, allowing the door to slide closed behind her. She leans against it for the briefest of moments, inhaling deeply and catching the light scent of Angela’s perfume on her jacket. Heart swelling, she allows herself an indulgent grin.

They’d win tomorrow. She’s sure of it.


End file.
